Between the Shadow and the Soul
by Clementine Mack
Summary: Hermione Granger's life is suddenly in an upheaval when someone from her past makes a return, forcing her to question whether people really can change. Meanwhile the threat of civil unrest looms on the horizon as more vampire and werewolf attacks are reported. Now the young witch must find out who is behind the attacks and stop them before it is too late.
1. Chapter 1

**Between the Shadow & the Soul  
**

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,  
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.  
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,  
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

 _Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda_

It was an early evening in Diagon Ally and the restaurant was dimly lit. The collection of candles were scattered across each table, offering up a warm glow for the handful of its patrons. It might have been off-putting for some but for Hermione and her nocturnal companion it was perfectly suited to the occasion.

"Mr. Sanguini, I have the letter!" The curly-haired woman exclaimed, drawing forth a simple sheet of paper. What it lacked in flourish it made up for in what it meant to the pale man. She handed the document over to him. "The ministry approved our request and we won't need to go to trial."

"Miss Granger," the vampire crooned, a flash of sharp teeth tugging at his lips in a genuine smile. He peered over the piece of paper, reading and re-reading the words. "This _is_ marvelous news. Thank you my dear child, thank you a thousand times over."

She was not put off by his use of "child" like she might have been with someone else. Given that Sanguini had close to a hundred years on her, she supposed age was a relative concept to him. But in this moment, he did not look a day over twenty-two. The sadness that had permanently etched itself into his youthful appearance dissipated with the knowledge that he was finally being recognized by the Ministry of Magic as a _person._ It was a big step for those like Sanguini, who would otherwise have been barred from many of the things wizards and witches take for granted.

Hermione had looked into the faces of countless magical creatures over the years, seeing the humanity in them that the rest of the Wizarding World still overlooked. They both knew that having the piece of paper that declared him a person would not be enough to give him all the benefits offered to others in wizarding society—but it was a definite start.

The witch matched his smile, excited that the document wasn't the only piece of good news she had for her client that day. "And it gets better; the court issued a request for Gringott to unfreeze your account too." One of the most frustrating parts Hermione's clients often faced, particularly vampires and werewolves, was discrimination in the banking system. Money that been in their accounts prior to becoming their current classification was often seized by the government until their personhood could be determined, a lengthy and expensive process.

"You are a remarkable witch, Hermione Granger," the vampire said as he thanked her one last time.

A remarkable witch. Hermione had heard that a lot over the years, sometimes in sarcasm but generally it was benign. At 27-years-old, Hermione Granger had achieved a great deal of success in her life to warrant such a compliment. But in truth when one is given the label of being the "brightest witch of her age" at the mere age of 11 it tends to set the bar high on personal achievements.

From house-elf activism in her youth, she had gone on to study wizarding law specializing in the rights of non-human magical entities. And Hermione was a perfect fit for the job; scouring books to meticulously build cases. Her unwavering determination to seek out all options, every ancient scroll that might give her client the upper hand. She had won most of her cases, a fact that she was especially proud of, and making herself invaluable to the company in the process.

But as she left behind the restaurant and Apparated back to her downtown bugalow, she was greeted by the familiar silence of an empty home. _Well,_ she said to herself, _almost empty._ Scratching at the high-rise window was her extremely large cat Crookshanks. She let him in and was greeted with a thankful purr as he darted off to find a bookshelf to claim as his bed. As a joke for her birthday Ginny had given Hermione a sweater with the words "Cat Lady" scrawled across it—a little jab at the fact that despite the amicable break-up between Ron and her, she had not dated anyone else since they parted ways. Hermione blamed her hectic work schedule but in truth she knew that it wasn't entirely the reason.  
She grabbed the tattered copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ on the coffee table, curling up on the couch to reacquaint herself with the familiar story of Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. The truth of the matter was that Hermione's penchant for English literature had lent itself to some high standards for dating. _If he's not Mr. Darcy,_ she often said to herself, _then he isn't Mr. Right._

Hours past into the night before Hermione's head began to droop from fatigue, book still clutched in her hands, her mind welcomed the dark tendrils of sleep. As she drifted off to a peaceful dream, Hermione was unaware of what sort of days soon laid ahead.

Arriving at her work, she found the office in flutter of excitement that only occurred during a major trial. Puzzled, she was relieved when her secretary came rushing to greet her. Tabitha Jones was a petite young woman only a few years out of Hogwarts. Blonde, cheery and extremely efficient at her job Hermione found her to be an invaluable employee but also friend. "Hermione, did you get my owl?"

Hermione furled her brow while shaking her head. She did not like to feel unprepared and given the chaos of the office, set aside pleasantries to state pointedly: "No, I told you that owl of your's is too old to be delivering time-sensitive information. What in Merlin's beard is going on?"

"No one knows. A bunch of very important looking people came walking through about a half an hour ago and have been meeting with the boss in his office. There is a lot of rumors flying around though. I thought _you_ would definitely know."

Hermione heard the surprise in Tabitha's voice. There was very little going-ons that Hermione was not generally involved with on some level. Her success with high-profile trials had gained her a great deal of publicity in the news but also gained her immense respect in the company. As such their boss, Zachariah Frankford, almost always included her in important meetings.

"I am not sure but I am going to find out," she said and started off towards Frankford's office. Their boss's secretary nodded to the door as Hermione approached. With a knock, the witch entered the room and gazed upon a small group of unfamiliar wizards seated around Frankford's desk. Sitting in his leather chair was of course her boss but it was not he who stole her attention but the tall blonde man standing closest to him. She met the gaze of his piercing blue eyes and was unable to mask her surprise at the sight of that familiar smug smile.

"Oh hello _Granger_ , so glad you could join us," said Draco Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hermione was quick to hide her surprised expression behind a mask of professionalism cultivated from years spent in the courtroom. She was not sure what could have possibly brought her childhood enemy back into her world but she was not going to let him get the upper hand in riling her.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said offering up politeness as she bit back the urge to greet him with something far more venom. "It has been awhile."

"It certainly has," he replied back and the smirk tugging at his lips never wavered. Hermione broke her gaze from him with an expectant look to her boss, hoping for an explanation.

If Zachariah sensed any tension in the pair, he made no note of it in his tone. Beaming happily, "ah! So wonderful you two have met before! Hermione, these fine wizards are from Compton Enterprises. We were just discussing some exciting new plans."

"I am afraid we must be going Mr. Frankford," interrupted a weathered looking man with an American accent. He looked to be in his fifties with shocks of silver in his jet black hair. His expression was serious, devoid of any humor; this alone did not bother Hermione, she dealt with all sorts of serious personalities in her work but there was something else she found uncomfortable about him. Her instincts told her to be cautious. He did not look at Hermione and as he rose from his seat so did everyone else in the room.

"Yes certainly, Mr. Grey. You all must be quite busy. I will walk you out," said Frankford, walking along side the mysterious man. "Hermione, we will talk later tonight at the ball. See you there!" And before she could get a word in, he was gone with the rest of them striding down the hall.

"It's been a pleasure," Draco said cryptically as he walked past her. She narrowed her gaze subtly but his expression was one of smug triumph. He knew something she didn't and despite Hermione's best efforts to hide her emotions, Draco sensed that this annoyed her.

When her boss and the mysterious wizards from Compton Enterprises were gone Hermione stormed into her office without a word to her secretary, who had been patiently waiting to find out what was going on. Hermione did not want to face the barrage of questions from Tabitha, of which she still did not have answers for just yet.

Even after mulling over the possibilities, Hermione was no closer to knowing what was going on. Why was this the first she was hearing about Compton Enterprises? Anything involving Draco Malfoy seemed like a recipe of trouble. While she was not one to accept defeat easily, Hermione acknowledged that she was going to have to wait to find out.

 _Tonight,_ she thought to herself, remembering the annual ball was hours away. It was then she remembered that she was meeting Ginny to look for a dress later on. _Nothing like waiting to the last minute_ , she said silently. Although the idea of dress shopping was not on her list of favorite activities, Hermione was looking forward to seeing her long-time friend. If nothing else, Ginny would sympathize with Hermione's disgust with Draco Malfoy appearing in her company's office.

"And the git just stood there?" Ginny said with a frown as Hermione relayed her earlier interaction with the tow-headed wizard of their past. They were browsing through an endless aisle of chiffon dresses and silk gowns. The dazzling array of colors and styles made Hermione's head spin and she was thankful to have Ginny around to help. Fashion was not Hermione's forte.

Ginny Weasley was in many ways like the sister Hermione had longed for in her early youth. Someone she could confide in with matters that neither Harry nor Ron had much inclination to talk about. _Ron._ Hermione's first love, one of her closest friends, but also Ginny's brother. Despite the opportunity for awkwardness, Hermione and Ron's break-up had thankfully done little to tamper with the friendship between Ginny and Hermione. Deep down, Hermione wondered if it was because Ginny still thought they would end up back together.

Changing the subject from the Slytherin alumna, it was as though Ginny had read her mind. "Ron says hi by the way; I saw him a couple weeks ago and he asked how've you been. I think we ought to get together for a butterbeer soon, all of us, just like old times." 

"That would be great, how is he by the way?" Hermione asked as she paused in front of a promising dress.

"Good," Ginny said, shaking her head in disapproval of Hermione's choice. "Same old, same old with him. Him and George are staying busy with the shop." The redhead grabbed a gown off the rack and handed it to Hermione delicately. Before Hermione could come with an excuse, Ginny directed her to the changing room.

Hermione stepped back out of the room feeling self-conscious, despite the fact that her only audience was Ginny. "Well? What do you think?"

"You are going to knock them dead tonight," Ginny beamed.

Despite Ginny's vote of confidence, Hermione felt very much like she was back in Hogwarts coming down the stairs for the Yule Ball. At times, it was hard to see herself as anything but that awkward young girl with frizzy hair. But as she arrived for the evening's festivities, Hermione felt herself morph into the confident woman people saw in the courtroom. Her insecurities swept away as she greeted colleague with all the mastered grace she had honed over the past few years.

And with her friend's help in choosing the dress, Hermione even felt _pretty_. Her brown hair was pinned in a delicate up-do; her gown was a beautiful inky blue stitched with an enchanted silver thread that matched her elbow-length gloves. With each step it subtly flickered like a thousands stars in the night sky. It was far more extravagant then she might have chosen for herself and yet Hermione also delighted in feeling a bit like one of her Jane Austen heroines.

As she entered the ballroom to take her seat at Frankford's table, she couldn't help but see that Draco Malfoy had already made himself comfortable beside her boss. And suddenly the wave of delight she had been coasting on dissipated abruptly.

"Hermione! Come and have a seat," Frankford said and gestured to the chair beside Draco while he took a long sip of champagne. He was certainly in a celebratory mood but the witch could not figure out why. "Draco here was just telling me the funniest story about his misadventures across the pond." 

"You should ask him about the one involving a ferret," she replied, dutifully taking her seat and secretly delighted that Draco clenched his jaw, obviously annoyed. Neither one of them could forget the day Mad-Eye Moody casted a curse on Draco and turned him into a ferret.

"Oh I bet it's a good one!" Frankford let out a hearty chuckle and judging from his red face, Hermione wondered just how many glasses of firewhiskey he might already have had that evening. It was the simplest explanation for his overly jovial disposition. Once again he didn't seem to sense any strain between the two old acquaintances.

Sitting next to her childhood enemy made Hermione's skin crawl but she reminded herself she had dealt with many foul individuals in her lifetime and this event demanded nothing but the most cordial air. Nonetheless she made sure to occupy herself in conversation with the other colleagues sitting at the table.

As waiters took the dishes away the ambient instrumental music paused. Frankford along with several of the Compton Enterprises wizards entered the middle of the room. Hermione was still perturbed that he had not revealed what these guests were doing here but waited patiently along with everyone else.

"Good evening my most-esteemed colleagues," Frankford said. "We are gathered here to celebrate a most wonderous anniversary of our beloved foundation and it's community of like-minded wizards and witches. When my grandfather opened our organization to serve the unheard voices of our world, the magical entities who still fight for their basic rights, he was the first to do so. And now, many decades later we carry out his dreams. As we turn another year older, I would like our community to grow which is why I am excited to declare that we will soon be partnering with Compton Enterprises in the coming months for more projects to benefit not just our clients but the Wizarding world!"

Everyone clapped although it was obvious to Hermione that she was not the only one still confused. _What is going on,_ she wondered as the music started back up and the guests began to make their way to the middle of the room to dance.

Her boss was eccentric and passionate for their work but he not one to make rash decisions and it felt very strange that this partnership was the first she had heard of it. But before she could become too wrapped in her thoughts, Hermione was jostled to her feet.

"Hemione my dear leave that serious look of your's at the office, tonight is a night for dancing!" Frankford said. And suddenly before she could stamper an excuse, he was pushing her towards Draco Malfoy. Perhaps in his mind he was doing her a favor; it had not been the first time he had tried to set her up with some young wizard. To him, Draco was the charming representative from their newest client. How was he to know that Hermione despised him?

"Sir, Mr. Frankford I honestly coul-" she began but her protest was cut short as Draco extended his hand.

It was one thing for Frankford to push her to dance with him, it was entirely another matter for the blond Slytherin alumna to accept. However, Hermione was not going to be the one who made a scene and reluctantly took his hand. After all, she imagined that was just what the wizard wanted.

"What do you think you're doing?' She whispered fiercely as he lead her into a waltz.

"I believe it's called dancing, Granger," he said drily and Hermione was at least slightly relieved that he _was_ still the same person she remembered him to be. If it had been anyone else, Hermione might have been impressed with his movements as he directed them through each step of the dance with such practiced grace. But instead all she could think about was their long unpleasant history. "Which, surprisingly, you know how to do."

She scoffed but was quite grateful for those lessons she had talked Ron into doing with her those years ago. However, Hermione could not have imagined then that she would be putting them to use in such circumstances.

"I'm not sure what you and your people are up to but I _will_ find out," Hermione said hastily.

"I really don't know what you are going on about," Draco quirked his eyebrows in feigned innocence. But if there was any mistaking his expression for sincerity the slow smirk cambering across his lips betrayed him, "I am just here for the party."

As the song ended softly, those around them were curtsying and bowing to their partners.

Draco made motion to do the same but Hermione pretended not to notice as she quickly walked away, eager to put some distance between herself and Draco. She had begun to feel suffocated by her surroundings and stepped onto the balcony for a reprieve in the cool autumn air.

 _Some evening this turned out to be,_ Hermione said to herself, unsure of what exactly she had expected. She was no closer to knowing what her boss was up to with this mysterious company nor did she like that Draco was involved but the answers she sought would have to wait once more. She was going home.

Glancing back through the ballroom doors, Hermione saw that the tow-headed wizard was casting a gaze in her direction. She could not make of his expression but it made her wonder all the more what he knew as she Apparated into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Draco watched Hermione leave the ballroom with fixation. He could have told himself it was the way her twilight-inspired form moved that he found so mesmerizing but in reality it was the fact this was the same Hermione Granger from his youth. Gone was the girl who's bushy hair and large teeth he had mocked as a child. Instead she was a grown witch. A very attractive one at that.

In their exchange of barbed words, the former Slytherin regretted antagonizing her. He had only set foot back into the UK less than month ago after many years because he wanted to move forward on a new path. He wanted to leave behind the baggage of the past.

 _But old habits die hard,_ he said to himself.

Draco had not imagined that _she_ would be one of the first people from his past that he would interact with. Despite his calm outer persona, his heart had skipped a beat when he first saw her enter the office. He had wondered if she was going to expose his past to everyone in the room.

He didn't need to use Occulmency to know the thoughts that must have passed through her mind. The contempt was there and with good reason he acknowledged.

They had not just fought as teenagers in a trivial school-house rivalry but on opposite sides of a war. A war he had wanted nothing to do with but by then it was too late to turn back. Instinctively he brought his hand over his left sleeve: the permanent reminder of his transgressions hiding beneath it.

Buried in his thoughts, he did not immediately notice he was no longer alone standing off to the side of the ballroom. Standing beside him was Henry Grey, the representative from Compton Enterprises and his current employer.

"I saw you had a dance with that witch, miss Granger," the older man said quietly. There was no joy, no humor in his tone.

"Yes sir," Draco replied.

"Do keep an eye on that one won't you? I don't get the impression she quite likes our presence but so long as she doesn't meddle too much she shouldn't be a problem."

Draco nodded slowly. He suddenly didn't feel as though Compton Enterprises had recruited him to proctor a new humanitarian project but something else entirely.

"I don't know Hermione, he seems really nice to me," Tabitha said with a shrug, pouring the lawyer a cup of tea. It was the next morning and while the rest of the office was still at home nursing hangovers from the ball, Hermione was at her desk ready to work.

Hermione scowled and Tabitha hesitated before going on, "maybe I just don't see what's the matter."

Hermione tried to explain to her but could tell that the idea of war, of evil wizards and witches and the battle of Hogwarts were all vague concepts to Tabitha. She was a Muggleborn witch who by the time she got her acceptance letter, was welcomed not by rubble but a freshly rebuilt Hogwarts. The pain and suffering Hermione had bore witness to was not something Tabitha could easily understand. Very few could.

Tabitha's reaction was not all too uncommon. Many witches and wizards, even those who had gone through the hardships of the time, were eager to forget that anything had ever happened. _Particularly those who had fought for Him,_ she thought bitterly.

"Nevermind," Hermione sighed. Changing the subject, she asked for a copy of the Daily Prophet to read over her morning tea. The secretary went to get it for her but returned with a wince.

"You aren't going to like this one."

And indeed, Tabitha was correct:

 **SUSPECTED VAMPIRE ATTACK IN EAST VILLAGE: TWENTY DEAD**

 _(DAILY PROPHET) In the early hours of the morning Aurors were alerted to a disturbance in Rutlands._

 _By the time officials arrived at least twenty wizards and witches were dead with at least another six in serious condition. The wounded have been transported to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries . No suspects have been named at this time however given particular evidence found at the scene of the crime authorities believe vampires might be responsible._

"This is bad, _very bad,_ " she finally said.

Hermione had been working tirelessly for the past two years to build better relations between the Ministry and the vampire community. So many cases like Sanguini's had come across her desk over the years, she knew many of the local vampires by name. She also knew that most of them were calm, if not reclusive individuals. They preferred a consensual donor or blood pack over the savagery displayed in the news article. 

"Tabitha, see if you can find more news on this," Hermione called out from her office. When a few moments passed and she received no reply, she walked around the corner of her office door to see that the young witch was occupied with a new arrival. Draco Malfoy was leaning against the edge of her desk, casually flirting with the woman who looked on with love struck eyes.

 _I don't have time for this._

"Tabitha!"

At the sound of her name, the witch bolted from her seat but Draco remained unconcerned. He glanced to Hermione's office and then back at the witch, "Uh oh, looks like you have been summoned."

She giggled and bounded over to Hermione to carry out her boss's request with a quiet yes ma'am.

"Please send Mr. Frankford an owl as well to let him know about the news. This is going to put a damper on a few of our upcoming cases," Hermione said. With a nod, Tabitha disappeared into another room.

"And you," Turning on the wizard once Tabitha was no longer in earshot Hermione said, "don't corrupt my secretary. Unlike _some_ people, she is a decent person.'

"Testy now, are we? Are you jealous of my affection?" Draco said with grin. "Careful Granger, I might think you fancy me."

Hermione made a noise of disgust, "What are you doing here? No one will likely be in before noon today."

"Except you," he said, subtly closing the gap between Hermione and himself.

"Except me," she answered crossly, unmoving.

"And me!" Tabitha chirped, noticing that she had all been forgotten by the two. She noticed the tension between the pair and tried to smile amicably.

"Yes well then, I suppose I should leave these files with you ladies," Draco said. He retrieved his wand and with the wave of his wrist a small folder of paperwork appeared. "These are some of the documents our people needed you to look over for us. Namely the werewolf treatment center Compton Enterprises wants to build in London."

"What interest would they have in building a treatment center?" She asked with suspicion her tone as she skimmed over the documents. "What is in it for them?"

"For the sake of charity?" He offered with a bland tone but Hermione remained unconvinced. "But really don't ask me, my job is to make sure everything goes smoothly," he said with a shrug. "Besides, what is so wrong with that? I must say, you seem to be looking for issues where there aren't any."

Tabitha made a grimace and excused herself discreetly from the ensuing conversation, murmuring something about needing to make tea—despite the fact that Hermione clearly already had her cup.

"My _issue_ , as you put it, is that you are involved with this. Excuse me if I don't trust your motives. I still remember who you are Draco Malfoy."

"Well what you think really isn't of my concern," he said stiffly and any warmth he had displayed earlier was gone. At that, he turned to leave, only addressing the secretary: "Have a lovely day Miss Tabitha."

When he disappeared beyond the elevator doors there was a long pause before either Hermione or Tabitha spoke.

"So…that was interesting," Tabitha eventually said.

Hermione's living room was covered in stacks of parchment, books and newpapers from both the Muggle and Wizarding sources when the doorbell rang. Hermione cursed under breath. She had completely forgotten that Harry was coming over for dinner that night. Muttering a tidying-up spell, the books and papers suddenly came to life and darted into her nearby desk and bookshelves until the space was relatively presentable.

"Tidying spell?" Harry greeted when she opened the door, knowing Hermione far too well. They both laughed as they embraced. Harry carried a bag of take-out food to the small dining room table, instantly making himself at home. Through the years and hardships their bond had become so familial that in many ways Hermione was closer to Harry, Ron and Ginny than her own parents.

"Where's Ginny, I thought she would be coming too."

"Pre-season practice started back up," Harry replied. "Guess you are stuck with just me tonight."

As they ate and chatted, Hermione felt the stress of the past few days slip away. She listened intently as Harry regaled her with his recent adventures as an Auror and they talked about her latest court battles but also the unfortunate interactions with Draco Malfoy. Harry, even more than Hermione, had deeper resentment towards the former Slytherin and shared her wariness in regards to his budding involvement with Frankford lawfirm.

They were sitting in the living room when Harry saw the Daily Prophet's headline about the presumed vampire attack. Hermione traced his gaze and asked, "Do you know anything about it? I have been digging all day but the Ministry seems to be keeping everything very hush."

Harry nodded. "I wasn't put on the case but I heard from those who went to the scene that it was gruesome."

"But why do they think it was vampires?" Hermione asked, "none of the articles I've read say why." 

"Some of the people who survived said the attackers moved like shadows, going for the necks of their victims. They left that part out of the news on purpose," Harry said. He knew Hermione was passionate about helping magical entities and often saw them in a vastly different light than others so he watched his words, not wanting to offend her. "I don't think they have ruled out other possibilities though…"

"It doesn't make sense, Harry," Hermione replied. "Vampires _are just like us._ They aren't by nature violent people."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that if he dared to question her assessment it might end their otherwise pleasant night with one another. So instead of instigating any further he simply promised he would let her know if he found out anything more useful. 

Satisfied, Hermione let the subject drop. It was getting close to 11 by the time they noticed the clock and Harry left soon after.

Just as she lifted her wand to murmur _"nox"_ and extinguish the lights, movement outside her window caught Hermione's attention. Given that most of her clientele occupied themselves strictly in the evening, it wasn't unusual to receive an owl late into the night. But assuming it was either that or Crookshanks, she was surprised to find neither at the window.

She gazed outside and saw nothing. Hermione wasn't one to succumb to paranoia and wrote it off as a trick of her imagination. But even as she closed the curtains and turned off the lights she could not shake the feeling that something had been outside—watching her.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I am not one for long drawn out author's notes but I wanted to take a moment and say thank you for the reviews, follows and wonderful support so far. I wanted to say also that I will be posting the remaining chapters weekly each Sunday evening. Thanks again!

 **Chapter 4**

Several weeks had gone by and Hermione had successfully managed to avoid Draco Malfoy for the most part. Despite the digging she had done, she could find nothing suspicious about Compton Enterprises and their current planned project with Frankford Foundation but that did not rid her of continued suspicions. The company's public image was impeccable. Founded in the United States, they specialized in potion and technology innovation. What she did find interesting in her research was that they had developed a patent for a new Wolfsbane potion.  
Sitting in her home office, there was a tapping on her window that interrupted her reading. She opened the hatch and let in the familiar owl that belonged to her boss. The beautiful barn owl dropped an envelope on her desk as it flew to the nearby perch for a rest, giving out a soft " _hoo hoo_ " in greeting.  
She recognized the scrawling penmanship of her boss's secretary, reading:

 _Hermione,_

 _Meeting at the office, 5 tonight. Need to go over new rehabilitation project ._

 _\- Z. Frankford_

Nodding to herself she wrote back a confirmation and sent the owl on it's way. Hermione put the case files she had been working on in her desk and locked them up. The meeting was not for a couple more hours so she took a shower and changed into a pair of black slacks and an ivory silk blouse. Forgoing any make-up, she straightened her hair with a quick spell.

Satisfied with her reflection, Hermione took off. She arrived at the Apparition point just outside building shortly before 5 o'clock. Unfortunately, Draco had apparently arrived at the same time. She should have known when her boss had sent the message concerning the project _he_ would have been invited as well.

"You again," she said disapprovingly.

"Is that excitement I hear in your voice? Say, have you been missing me, Granger?" he remarked. Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed past him as they made their way to the elevator. She would have tried to shut the doors, forcing him to ride separately but Draco must have sensed as much and was too quick for her to press the button.

When the doors parted, Hermione stopped in her tracks at the sound of commotion. She heard guttural screams that abruptly stopped in equally disturbing silence. Instinctively she reached for her wand and noticed Draco had done the same.

The sounds of snarling echoed in the empty floor but they were coming from Frankford's office. The wizard and witch made eye contact before silently moving forward, wands poised as they approached.

Hermione moved until she was crouching just outside the door frame of her boss's door. From her line of vision Hermione saw a trail of blood and the lifeless body of Zachariah Frankford. His dead eyes were still open wide with terror and Hermione had to look away from the terrible sight.

"Don't move," Draco breathed in her ear. To her surprise, Draco quickly stood upright and put himself in the door, putting himself between her and whatever still lurked in the room.

Hermione didn't listen and got behind him. She gasped and Draco staggered back slightly. The former occupant's lamp had been pushed off the desk, casting sharp shadows all through the room. In the corner stood a cloaked figure. Hermione could not make out it's features save for the glowing yellow eyes peering back at them. The witch could feel the hair on her arms stand on end, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

The figure lurched out the of the way just as Draco yelled out, " _STUPEFY!"_

The spell missed its target, who's reflexes supernaturally fast. There was a deafening roar and an unseen force knocked both of them backwards and off their feet. There was no time to recover, suddenly the figure had Draco pinned against the ground. Using his knee to push back against the creature, there was just enough space for Hermione to cast an _incendio_ spell without him getting caught in the attack.

A jet of fire ensnared the being and it doubled back in pain, swatting at the flames. In its rage, it lifted up the nearby office desk and threw it at them. Draco tackled Hermione to the ground as they both dodged the hurtling furniture. The massive desk hit the nearby wall and splintered into pieces.

And then they were alone. 

"Harry, I promise I'm fine," Hermione said although she was visiblily shaken by what had just transpired. She didn't remember calling for the Aurors and assumed Draco must have been the one. When the team of wizards arrived, Harry and Neville were among them.

The pair were standing off to the side of the scene while a blur of commotion around them ensued as professionals of various departments came in to take care of the bloodbath inside her late boss's office.

"When we got the word that the crime location was your office, Neville and I got here as soon as we could," Harry said. His green eyes shone with relief but as his gaze shifted to Draco across the room instantly narrowed. "What was _he_ doing here? Did Malfoy have something to do with this?"

She shook her head, surprising herself by the truth. She told Harry about the meeting and the attack, adding, "He actually tried to protect me. Whatever it was that attacked was very quick, I'm not sure what would have happened if he had not been here."

Hermione could see two mediwitches hovering over Draco as he swatted them away. Another Auror was beside him, asking questions for the crime scene report.

"What was it that attacked you?" He asked. "Did you get a look at his face?"

Hermione closed her eyes and the scene flashed across her mind. She tried to remember the details but there was nothing. There was only one thing she could recall. "It's eyes, they were a glowing yellow. But that's all I could see, it kept to the shadows and wore a cloak. It was over so quickly."

Harry nodded. He could tell that there was nothing more his friend could offer and so instead he gave her a tight hug, still relieved that she was unharmed. She bit back the urge to cry, the full acceptance of her boss's murder hitting her as she realized it almost very nearly was her laying dead on the floor beside him.

That night, Harry and Neville escorted Hermione home where Ginny, George and even Ron were waiting for her. Surrounded by her friends, she felt safe that night.

But before Hermione left the office she had glanced around for Draco, who had slipped away when she wasn't looking. Despite her inclinations to generally despise Draco, Hermione still found herself now wondering where he was and if he too had someone to keep him company after such a hellacious evening. The concern she felt was unexpected and continued to linger even as the hours crept on into the night.

What Hermione could not have imagined though, was that elsewhere in the city, Draco was having the same thoughts of her. Sleep had evaded him as it did on most nights and while his bed remained untouched, the bottle of firewhiskey on the nearby bar cart did not. It wasn't the best remedy for his nightmares and episodes of panic but it helped dull their intensity.

His spacious flat had a large window that spanned an entire wall. From it, he overlooked all of downtown London. The busy lights of traffic were comforting to him, reminding him of the fireflies that used to dance outside his room back home. Very few people knew Draco had taken up residence in the city, least of all that he would have chosen a place so congested with Muggles.

But there were also even fewer people Draco called friends, noting the slow wane of social invitations from his former schoolmates over the years. When Draco made his return to the UK after years abroad it had not even crossed his mind to reach out to anyone from his past.

He sighed quietly, feeling the heavy burden of his memories mingle with the stress of what had happened earlier in his evening. Once he had been thoroughly questioned and cleared by the overly eager mediwitches, Draco had slipped away unnoticed. He saw Hermione being comforted by Harry Potter and the sight of his childhood nemesis made heat rise up his neck with a mixture of annoyance and discomfort.

Saved for some singed hair from Hermione's incendio spell and bruises from the fall, he was otherwise fine. Draco knew that it could have been far worse. He was reluctant to admit the thoughts that had crossed his mind in those moments of terror.

 _Protect her. Protect her at whatever cost._

He wasn't sure of what origin the conviction sprang from only that it possessed Draco to put himself between the creature and the woman he had once fought against. The same witch he had once said such horrible things to, speaking words that now carried the burden of shame. He was not one to typically throw himself into danger, preferring to weigh the costs in his head before acting.

And yet this impulse overrode his nature. Draco mulled over his thoughts, unwillingly to identify the emotions that were stirred.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The days that followed Zachariah Frankford's death were a blur for Hermione as she found herself thrust into the spotlight of national news, giving interview after interview.

That afternoon Hermione was standing before a small crowd of reporters, poised and professional as she addressed them, repeating the lines she had rehearsed: "We mourn the death of Zachariah Frankford, who was not just our leader but a wonderful friend and role model. His legacy will continue to live on in our work as we continue to fight for the rights of all magical entities."

There was a flash of bulbs as photographers snapped away meanwhile a steady roar of questions echoed around the space. One voice rose above the rest, a small man from the Daily Prophet spoke up, "Rumor is that this was the work of a vampire. Do you think it is related to the other attacks?"

And suddenly other reporters were triggered to ask about the threat of vampires, of werewolves and other beings the public deemed too dangerous for society. Hermione didn't waver, raising a hand to calm the barrage of words being thrown at her.

"Rumors are just that, rumors. We don't know who did this and will leave the detective work to the Aurors. As for the Frankford Foundation, we will continue to serve the needs of our clients. Thank you and that's all I have time for today."

Hermione walked away and ignored the questioning that dogged her steps as journalists continued to yell over one another.

The publicity of the tragedy induced the same exhaustion she had faced after her participation in ending the war. Only now she had the obligation to see to it that the foundation's hard work over the years was not to be undone. Despite the oversight of three other wizards beside Frankford, Hermione knew their involvement was almost entirely in name only. The men that had helped build the foundation along side her boss's grandfather were very old themselves and therefore Hermione found herself steering the helm of day-to-day affairs.

Because the investigation into Frankford's death was still on going, the entire office had been closed off as an active crime scene. Thankfully, they still had access to the third level of the building. It was less glamorous and with only a handful of desks, most of the employees were working from home for the time being.

Hermione was startled to find that her make-shift office was already occupied when she arrived. Draco was sitting in an oversized leather chair, looking bored or simply deep in thought. Hermione admitted she could not quite tell with his expressions.

He looked up when she entered the room, collecting himself.

"Can I help you, Malfoy?" She said with conditioned exasperation. But as Hermione recalled his bold and unexpectedly brave actions in defending her against the mysterious attacker, both her voice and expression softened. "What I mean is, how have you been?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow but to Hermione's relief, didn't draw attention to the change in her demeanor towards him.

"I am fine," he said. In the afternoon light, his eyes were an icy shade of blue that reminded Hermione of how the lake at Hogwarts looked during the winter time. Frozen and fathomless, they hid many secrets beneath the surface.

She caught herself staring.

"I told Mr. Grey and his associates that I was meeting with you today to get some documents signed," Draco said matter-of-factly, "but that isn't entirely true."

"Excuse me?" Hermione pressed.

"Because I am really here to tell you I think you might be in danger," he said softly with caution in his voice. Draco was hesitant and he saw Hermione instinctively reach for her wand. While he was not surprised by the movement, he did nothing. 

"You better start talking now Malfoy," Hermione said sharply.

Draco said flatly, "I am not sure entirely if you would believe me without any proof. But I didn't want it on my conscience if there _was_ something going on. Henry Gray, that mean-looking American bloke from Compton Enterprises, he said something at the ball...about keeping an eye on you to make sure you didn't get in their way."

When Hermione did not say anything, Draco continued. "It just didn't sit well with me, especially after the attack the other night."

There was a long silence in which Draco became more uncomfortable. Eventually he snapped, "Could you bloody say something, Granger?"

"Why are you telling me this?" She finally asked.

Draco had expected the question but wasn't sure what to say under Hermione's scrutiny. Many words he wished to say came rising to his mind but died on his lips. Draco felt the heat on his neck rise until he willed himself to exercise composure. The feeling of vulnerability that plagued him in that moment wasn't routine to his emotional repertoire.

"Because it is the right thing to do," he said quickly, as if he hesitated he might not have the courage to be forthright. Draco didn't make eye contact. Instead his gaze stretched beyond her, focusing on the window but more so on the distant past as though looking into his personal pensieve. "I know we have never been fond of each other in the past but I am not the same person I was as a kid. Surely that isn't too difficult to imagine?"

"A bit, yes," she said. Hermione saw a brief flicker of emotion in Draco's expression and knew her incredulity stung. "You fought for _him_ and called me hateful things, Malfoy. I want to believe a person can change but something like that…" 

"I am not about to grovel for your forgiveness," he bit back but just as soon as the words left his mouth he knew it wasn't the right thing to say. Draco's pride continued to rebel against his desire for sincerity. In exasperation, Draco sighed and tried to choose his words carefully, "What I want to say is, I am not proud of what I did back then."

Draco wasn't sure why he wanted her to believe him, why it mattered that she knew that he wasn't the same person from their youth. That by the time he realized how wrong he was, it had been too late. His heart was pounding and the threat of anxiety made his chest tighten. He could not bring himself to explain to her what had set him on the path he took, nor could Draco express how he had arrived where he was today.

"You think the worst of me and that is probably rightfully so," he eventually said. Just below the surface Draco felt the familiar pangs of anxiety let him know that he was heading into an episode. The sort of mental pain brought on when he confronted the past. "But it's not all black and white..,"

Without reaching into her thoughts by means of Occulmency, Draco wasn't sure what might have been going through Hermione's mind. And then unbidden to him he got a glimpse, whether from her thoughts or simply his own, a flash of the Death Mark. Voices screaming, and the smell of smoke.

"What—" Hermione began to ask a question but Draco cut her off.

"Forget it, Granger. Just watch out for yourself," he said abruptly before turning to leave. His pale skin had taken on a clammy complexion. He didn't give her time to reply before he was walking away.

"Malfoy!" She yelled but he didn't turn around. Hermione went after him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to acknowledge her. "Wait!"

There was something in his expression, like he wasn't entirely there. She recognized it because she had seen it in the others who had gone through the war, at times, Hermione had even witnessed it in herself.

"Malfoy… _Draco_ come back here," Hermione said firmly but she wasn't just telling him to stay physically, but also mentally as well. Hermione knew all too well how the war's horrors had a way of sneaking into one's mind and suddenly the past as stolen one's present.

He blinked, the sound of his name drawing him from the prison of his memories. For a moment Draco stared at Hermione, confused by the concern in her face and the hand that still held his own.

Hermione let go of him quickly, a discreet tinge of pink crossing her cheeks in embarrassment.

Draco noticed but made no comment about it. "I don't like to think of that time," he said eventually. "It's why I left for the states right after I turned eighteen. I kept seeing Lord Vol- _him,_ in the shadows. Hiding just beyond my peripheral. I felt—"

"Haunted," Hermione finished his sentence quietly. Draco nodded. 

He ran a hand through his hair and Hermione realized he was feeling anxious. She wasn't sure why the realization that Draco Malfoy was in fact a real person came to her as such a strange thought. Perhaps because for so many years she had built him up in her mind as impenetrable. _Cold._

"I don't know why I am telling any of this to you," he eventually said with a sigh as he too, realized the vulnerability of the situation. Draco had confided in what he thought to be one of the least likely people.

"You said not everything is black and white," Hermione said. "What did you mean by that?" 

There was a long pause as Draco considered the weight of her question and the burden of the truth. "I did a lot of things I should not have done but I was desperate to save my family."

Hermione thought of her own mother and father, of what she had done to keep them safe. For the first time in their long history Hermione wasn't looking at her nemesis, but someone who had been forced into the same horrible world she had been in.

Perhaps, Hermione considered, she understood Draco more than she thought possible.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Mr. Malfoy," the American wizard greeted. There was serpentine quality to his voice that struck Draco reminiscent of the dark wizard that dogged his memories. There was something else about Henry Gray that troubled Draco although he was not entirely sure what.

"Mr. Gray, it is a pleasure as always. I wanted to say thank you again for meeting with me," Draco said. As they exchanged pleasantries a waitress dressed in a seductive sequin dress brought over two glasses of scotch. The two men lounged in the darkly lit parlor; it was a familiar scene for Draco, who had mastered the art of business social etiquette. _Take a sip, make a joke, offer a cigar. Repeat._

He would have much rather cut ties with the wizard and Compton Enterprises altogether; while the salary they had given him was substantial, Draco knew he did not need the money. And yet he was conflicted with an unfamiliar desire to investigate. To find out what secrets the company was keeping. Or perhaps, more specifically, whether Hermione was in any specific danger of them.

It was a strange thought that occurred to him, that this woman's well-being would occupy his concern. Draco tried to convince himself that this was simply part of being a better person but even he knew deep down that there was something more. Although he did not have the courage to _investigate_ those feelings.

"How are things moving along with the rehabilitation center?" Henry asked.

"As well as to be expected, I would say. The Frankford foundation has been putting together everything needed on their end to break ground on the new site," Draco said. Which was true, what he didn't say was that Hermione and him had been digging through past rehabilitation center projects, trying to find something that would indicate ulterior motives on the company's part.

"Excellent, and the list?"

"The list, sir? I don't follow," Draco replied.

"Prior to Mr. Frankford's untimely death he had made mention that there was a list of all their clients that might benefit from the treatment center. Have you seen it?" Henry asked, his gray eyes unemotional.

"This is the first I have heard of it," he said casually.

"Ah, then perhaps you should talk to Miss Granger. She seems to be the one running operations these days; find out what she knows of it," the American wizard replied quietly but there was an undertone in words that made the hair on Draco's arms stand. Draco was not sure what purpose this list served Compton Enterprises but he felt instinctively that this was part of something bigger.

Draco arrived at Hermione's office and found the witch at work. He lingered in the doorway, amused by the way her brow furrowed as she read over the papers on her desk. The tip of an unused quill pressed against her lips.

He cleared his throat to get her attention, causing her to jump with a start. 

"Eating quills are we?" Draco asked with a crooked smile.

"And how long were you standing there?" Hermione rolled her eyes but found herself smiling despite herself as she discarded the evidence of her habit in a desk drawer. 

"Long enough; it's okay, Granger I won't tell anyone your secret," Draco said smugly as he seated himself in the chair opposite of her desk.

He told her of his conversation with Henry Gray and watched her expression change from one of confusion to concern as he brought up the "list".

"Our client list? Mr. Frankford would never have disclosed that to anyone outside the foundation. It would be a breach of trust," Hermione said, thinking aloud. A darker thought occurred to her: could her boss have been killed because of this information? But _why?_

"I see those gears are turning," Draco remarked.

Just then, Hermione's stomach grumbled but the witch, already engrossed in thought, ignored the hunger pangs. Eyeing the walls of books and parchment and the uneaten bagel perched on the corner of her desk, Draco surmised that she had not eaten a meal at all that day.

"Merlin's beard, Granger-when was the last time you ate?" He asked and Hermione looked up, squinting slightly as she tried to recall.

"Um…"

"Impending doom or not, you are coming with me and we are getting food." The former Slytherin student demanded. There was no pause, no room for negotiation as he ushered her from the office. 

"And people tell me I _am_ bossy," she said.

Several blocks away they found themselves sitting on a park bench, two cokes and firebread between them. Hermione was still very much absorbed with her thoughts but was thankful for the food—as well as the company.

"I want to help," Draco said, guessing the nature of her thoughts. "If Compton Enterprises is up to something, which might be the case, we need to find out."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, suspicious.

Draco sighed. "Not this again. Surely it's in the realm of possibility that I can _want_ to help?"

She saw his mood darken and Hermione felt like she had a responsibility to give him the benefit of the doubt. Despite the issues of the past, this version of Draco seemed sincere. And he had, after all, told her about the Henry Gray's interest in the list.

"I am not sure where we should even start. We don't even have any proof they are doing anything wrong," Hermione said with an exasperated sigh. A silence filled the gap between them.

He shrugged with a wry smirk, "We'll figure something out. I am sure there is a brilliant idea just lurking in that big hair of your's."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. The sun was beginning to set, casting the last embers of it's light over the trees in a dazzling display. Hermione tried to remember the last time she had enjoyed such a sunset. She glanced over at her companion, he was leaning against the bench, admiring the sight as well.

There were many things that were nagging for her attention: the Foundation's path, the attacks, the possible threat of Compton Enterprises—and yet in that exact moment Hermione felt a sense of peace, however fleeting. It was a bizarre situation she found herself in, sitting on a park bench sharing a meal with the man she had once loathed. And rather then repulsed by his presence, she was…content.

Given that her home was only a block away from the north side of the park, Hermione decided to walk the distance instead of Apparate. She was slightly confused when he joined her.

"It's getting dark out, I am not going to let you walk home alone," he said matter-of-factly. Hermione wasn't sure what to make of this chivalrous version of Draco; the one that watched sunsets with her, who offered to help her in what might be a pointless search for answers.

They walked together down the park paths as the light posts began to turn on around them. And they talked. Not about work nor painful pasts but the sort of conversation one might have when getting acquainted with someone new.

"I can't picture you wandering around America," she said as he recounted his years abroad. After Hogwarts, Hermione had heard through other former students that Draco Malfoy had all but disappeared. She had not given it much thought back then.

"Oh, you would have gotten a good laugh Granger. I couldn't have been any more out of place in New York City."

He told her about his first job as bank intern and the mishaps of living in the muggle world. She told him about her brief work in the ministry and even as a natural progression of their conversation, her relationship with Ron too. While it wasn't painful to talk about how things had ended with her school sweetheart, she realized after the fact that it might be a nonetheless awkward topic.

Draco's jaw tightened at the mention of the ginger-haired wizard but he did not say anything disbarring. They were getting near her home when Hermione noticed a flicker of movement in the shadows up ahead.

"Did you see that?" Hermione asked.

Draco didn't answer immediately but she saw him reach inside his lapel pocket for his wand. Hermione did the same. The light post nearest her porch was out, it had been for weeks, but the lack of light left the area unnervingly dark.

"Lumos," he said and suddenly a soft light unfurled from the wand. They walked further, the luminescent glow guiding them.

As they approached, Hermione saw the outline of a figure hunched over on her front porch stoop. She felt Draco's apprehension next to her as clearly as the rapid thump of her own heart.

Upon seeing the pair, the figure moved toward them from the shadows.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** I just wanted to take a moment and say thank you to the overwhelmingly lovely feedback.Your words have been so incredibly encouraging and thoughtful, I couldn't help but finish this chapter earlier then my typical Sunday night routine.

 **Chapter 7**

The figure stumbled forward. Hermione recognized the vampire at once and gasped as she saw his face marred with blood. She put her wand away instantly and grabbed his shoulder to h

elp him keep his balance. Draco followed her lead, taking the vampire's other side.

"Sanguini, what has happened to you?" She asked in concern and horror.

With Draco's help, she lead him into her bungalow and eased him onto the couch. His clothes were charred and from cuts into his shirt there were deep lesions in his stomach.

The vampire forced a faint smile of gratitude, baring his fangs; Draco stepped slightly back but was instantly embarrassed by the reaction. Hermione pretended not to notice—his fearfulness of her client and friend wasn't the most important detail of the moment.

"I am terribly sorry to bother you my dear," he said weakly. "But this was the only place I could think of that might be safe."

"Safe from what?" Draco asked.

Sanguini's ancient eyes met the blond wizard as he briefly considered whether to answer him. Sensing the tension, Hermione interjected: "It's okay Sanguini, he is a friend. You are safe but Draco is right, from what? Please tell me what _happened_." 

"My home was attacked," he said flatly. Hermione grabbed a first aid kit she kept in her closet by the door. "About four wizards, they came for me while I was still asleep. Whether they had intended to kill me I am not sure. But they had goblin daggers. I was able to hold them off but had to flee when they set my house on fire."

As she applied dittany to his wounds, Hermione frowned. "We need to contact the Aurors. And I think we need to get you to the hospital" 

Sanguini shook his head. "This isn't the first time it has happened, Miss Granger. My wounds will heal after a few days rest. You will excuse me if I don't invest too much faith in the system of justice. As you recall, I only earned my personhood a few short weeks ago."

"This is a _hate crime,"_ she said with near tears in her eyes. "We can't let them get away with this."

"They already _have._ It doesn't reach wizaring news papers but among our kind these sort of attacks have been happening more and more. Some vampires have even gone missing," Sanguini's voice was tired. "And I am afraid we are heading into some very turbulent times. I have heard…whispers of a war coming. Retaliation"

Draco's expression darkened as he recalled the last war; there were legions of creatures, mostly werewolves but some vampires as well, that had joined Lord Voldemort. He wasn't sure then what they stood to gain from siding with the Dark Lord, perhaps it was simply that anything seemed better than the life the current government had afforded them.

"But you know me, child; I have no desire to be apart of such things," Sanguini said wistfully as he took Hermione's hand gently in his own. Draco wasn't sure of what to make of the tenderness he saw in the vampire's face. "You have done so much and I am not sure how I could ever repay you in a thousand lifetimes. However, I do believe this will be the last time I see you for awhile."

"I am so sorry the pain you have had to endure," Hermione said as she sat beside him. The vampire's wounds had already begun to disappear thanks to both his natural healing factor and the help of the potion. "Where are you going to go?"

"Abroad; Siberia perhaps or Alaska I hear has long nights this time of year."

"Let me help you apply for amnesty," Hermione offered. "The international portkeys—"

"-are challenging for my kind to qualify for," he finished and added with a mirthless laugh, "This country doesn't want us here but they won't let us leave too easily either."

"Let me see what I can do," Hermione pleaded, "There might be a way. I might have some connections with the ministry that could get you proper papers."

"She's right," Draco said softly, "Living illegally in another country is not any way to exist. Especially if you are caught. You know as well as I do that Hermione's bright; if she says there might be a way then I'd say it's worth a shot."

Hermione wasn't expecting Draco's vote of confidence in her but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. The witch nodded and turned to Sanguni. "Please let me help. And you can stay here in the meantime. I have a small basement; it isn't much but it's the only space where there are no windows for the sunlight to bother you."

Draco held his tongue, concerned about her offering up her home to a vampire. Despite her conviction that they were normal beings just like any other, Draco had seen the newspapers. He had seen their savagery while fighting for Lord Voldemort.

But Draco also knew it was not his business.

The vampire hesitated before smiling, "If you think there is a way, I would be most grateful for your hospitality."

And the look of tenderness Draco had noted earlier found itself in the face of the old vampire again. And that was when the former Slytherin realized something. When he had shirked from the sight of his fangs earlier, Hermione had not. She had knelt beside him, bandaged his wounds and looked the vampire in the eyes. The kindness in her gaze wasn't forced; her hospitality was sincere.

Draco stayed a little bit longer to help set up a place for the wounded vampire in the basement. He remained mostly quiet, mulling thoughts over in his head as he helped shuffle boxes of books out of the way.

"Is something the matter?" Hermione asked as she flicked her wand. Suddenly a dusty chair wiggled and creaked as it elongated and manipulated into the form of a twin size bed. "You have been awfully quiet."

The wizard paused, trying to choose his words with care. "The way you reacted up there. Most witches would be nervous around a wounded vampire. I know you work with them regularly but I was surprised."

"Surprised by what exactly?" She asked with a mild expression of exasperation. "That they weren't all gruesome savage creatures?"

"By your conviction. Your sincerity, to be honest." He answered bluntly. "I have met a great many people through the years desperate to convince the world of who or what they are; more often than not their actions and words don't add up to the truth. But you? It's obvious you really do care about these individuals."

When Hermione did not immediately say anything, Draco was not sure if he had misspoken and in embarrassment he turned back to charming the boxes to organize themselves. As the heat rose on his neck Draco muttered in quiet annoyance. "Bloody hell, it's _refreshing_ is simply what I wanted to say."

"Thank you, Draco," Hermione said thoughtfully with a faint smile as she went back to cleaning.

It was Saturday morning, a day she normally spent catching up on any remaining work left over from the previous week. Unfortunately these days there was never any possibility of catching up; the flood of obligations continued to pour in after her boss's death. But even as the meticulous workaholic that she was, Hermione knew the tasks were going to have to wait as she could not miss her monthly brunch with Ginny and Harry. It was less to do with the pancakes and company of her friends as it did with the favor she needed to ask.

Remembering the slumbering vampire in her basement, Hermione was going to talk with Harry and see what he thought could be done to help Sanguini.

Hermione got dressed, donning a pair of comfortable jeans and a short sleeve blouse. The faint remains of the word _mudblood_ still scarred her forearm. She often forwent short sleeves because of it. Hermione could hide it with a blurring charm but it needed to be continuously reapplied and often wasn't worth the trouble. Debating her choices Hermione eventually grabbed a jacket, the scar disappearing beneath the sleeve.

It was thankfully a cool autumn day when she stepped outside. Enjoying the crunch of leaves under her boots, Hermione opted to walk to her destination. Her mind drifted back to last night's exchange with Draco, his assistance with Sanguini and their walk through the park; she was trying to reorganize the mental compartments she had built over the years.

Friend, foe, acquaintance. Where did this person fall into now? Perhaps…a new category altogether?

Hermione blushed at the direction of her thoughts and waved off the absurdity. Whatever box it was that Draco Malfoy now occupied in her world, evidently, remained to be seen.

Just as she came up to the little Parisian inspired café she saw the familiar figures of Harry and Ginny already waiting at an outdoor table. They had not noticed her yet and Hermione smiled at the way Harry's face lit up when he spoke to his wife. After all the anguish he had endured in his life, she was happy her friend finally had that peace he had deserved all along.

"Look who's decided to join us!" Ginny greeted. As Hermione pulled up a seat, the redhead added in her best impersonation of Fleur, "I took ze liberty of ordering your _café du lait."_

"Merci," Hermione retorted with a smile.

"How have things been? It feels like it has been awhile," Harry asked but there was no judgment in his tone. Between their hectic schedules the friends were mutually aware that their Saturday brunch was a rare treat.

"Terribly busy. Every since Mr. Frankford's death I have been juggling quite a few hats," Hermione said in between sips of her coffee.

"Well I hope you're not too busy to visit my mum soon; at least pop in for a visit when you can. She is driving me mad with demands that we all have a big family dinner soon," Ginny said waving her hands in front of her in exasperation, Hermione nodded.

If there was one eternal truth that Hermione was certain of it was that Molly, the matriarch of the Weasley family, was not one to trifle with and she made a mental note to send her an owl soon. Despite the fact that Hermione was no longer dating her son never seemed to change their familial dynamics.

"So what was the news you were going to tell me about, Ginny?" Hermione eventually asked after they had placed their orders.

Harry and Ginny briefly looked at one another before beaming in nervous excitement. Ginny could not help but squeal, "We're going to have a baby!" 

"What? That's fantastic!" Hermione embraced both of them in a hug and felt as though her heart would burst from shared joy. "Absolutely wonderful, congratulations! You two are going to make amazing parents."

"Thanks Hermione, there's one more thing," Harry said. There was a mix of emotions in his emerald eyes. "We'd like for you to be our child's godmother—if that's alright?"

Hermione didn't hesitate, "Yes, I would be incredibly honored!"

She reached out and grabbed both of their hands in a tight squeeze. And as the late morning soon slipped into a wonderful afternoon as the three friends celebrated the good news.

As the meal was winding down, Ginny excused herself to the bathroom. Harry leaned back in his chair, tousling his jet black hair as he often did when they were younger whenever he was anxious.

"I can't believe I'm going to be a dad, Hermione." Harry eventually said in amazement, as if the words didn't seem real just yet.

"And you are going to be such a good one," Hermione reminded him as she smiled.

"You think so?" He asked and she saw him hesitate. But Hermione already had a feeling about her friend's doubts. "I never had a family growing up. I didn't know my father. What if I am not-"

"Stop right there Harry Potter," Hermione commanded. "That's rubbish. You are going to be fantastic. You and Ginny both are going to raise this child with so much love. Don't doubt that for a moment, okay?"

Harry nodded, thankful for the witch's reassuring words.

"And besides, they are going to have me for a godmother so they are going to be the top student at Hogwarts come time for school. You better believe they will be getting Hogwarts A History for their first birthday."

They both laughed and by the time Ginny returned the traces of concern in Harry's face had disappeared. When it was time to part, Hermione had been so caught up in the joy of the news that she had not gotten to ask for Harry's help. They agreed to meet up the following evening at his house.

However, Hermione could not have guessed how those plans would change by nightfall.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I wanted to thank those who have offered suggestions and critiques along the way. I will going through in a few chapters or perhaps once this fic is done and making revisions. As always I am deeply appreciative of the wonderful feedback along the way.

Draco arrived at Hermione's door step at exactly 7:00 pm. She had not seen him outside of his regular attire of black suit and ties and was caught by surprise when she opened the door to see him in a pair of dark jeans and white dress shirt. He casually wore his black blazer unbuttoned. His confident presence that had irked her as a Hogwarts student now seemed more befitting of the wizard.

"What's with the stare, Granger? I know you find me attractive but—" He began and she rolled her eyes, opening the door so he could walk in. When she had met with her friends earlier that day Hermione had felt a little sheepish for not telling Harry and Ginny she had invited Draco Malfoy over.

She assured herself it was strictly for business. Even so, how would she have broached the subject with her fellow Gryffindor alumna?

The truth was he had offered to help her research Compton Enterprises and she was willing to admit she needed the assistance. The night before when he had entered her home it had been under the urgent pretense to help with Sanguini but now he stood in her living room as an invited guest.

"Make yourself at home, I was just finishing up some tea," Hermione said as she disappeared behind the corridor to her kitchen. Draco abided and removed his blazer but as he went to hang it on the coat rack by the front door he couldn't help but notice a bowl on the entry way table. It was full of ashes and he was puzzled. _Did Granger smoke?_

But before he could ponder the thought too much, Hermione returned with two cups of tea. Tracing his gaze, she said. "It's howlers. I get them daily now on account of the attacks and who my clients are."

Hermione seemed unbothered by this. She handed Draco his cup as she sat down in an old leather armchair, adding, "Being in the news lately on behalf of the foundation hasn't helped matters."

"Well you certainly know how to make an impression," Draco said with a grin.

Hermione laughed and it was the first time she actually able to do so when it came to the hate mail.

"Yes, well. Thank you for coming over to help," she said in between sips. "I just can't shake the feeling that something is off with this company…"

"I took the liberty of doing my own research actually," Draco said. "And I found something strange. There are four other rehabilitation sites Compton Enterprises as funded over the past two years."

Draco retrieved a small set of newspaper articles from his blazer pocket. "At every town near the site there was a spike in vampire and werewolf attacks as well as disappearances."

"I wouldn't meddle with those people if I were you two," said a voice from the basement stairs. Sanguini appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. The wounds on his face from the evening before were all but gone.

"Do you know something?" Hermione asked.

Sanguini nodded and slowly moved towards them. While his wounds had faded, his gait was still weak. He took a seat on the edge of the couch. "There are rumors that they are recruiting our folk for their projects."

"You mean for their studies?" Draco asked. It was common knowledge that the company was the forerunner in magical innovation. Vampire participants were highly regarded as the best because they were close to wizards in most regards. Everyone, for the obvious ethical reasons, were going to be volunteers. Draco said as much.

"Not everyone _volunteers_ , boy," Sanguini said flatly. "And I am not referring to the experiments the public knows about."

Hermione saw Draco bristled at being addressed as 'boy' and coupled with Sanguini's tense response, she tried to keep them on track. "Can you elaborate please? What experiments?"

"If you insist on learning more my dear, you need to speak to a vampire by the name of Trocar. I have been told he has some experiences with them. But I do warn you this might not the sort of rabbit hole you want to jump down."

"Where can we find him?" Hermione asked, ignoring the words of caution. She wasn't prone to taking hasty actions but the more puzzle pieces that unfolded about this company the more Hermione felt pulled to investigate. She began to wonder if there were secret experiments being done and if that were true, the list of clients Henry had asked Draco about suddenly seemed like a very dangerous piece of information.

"You don't want to call in reinforcements first?" Draco asked as they arrived in Nocturne Ally, a place that had a nefarious reputation of housing society's undertow. Hermione could hear the tone of concern in his voice.

"We are just going to ask questions," she replied. "If there is any threat we'll leave but finding this vampire Trocar is our best shot at figuring out what's going on."

While walking down the cobblestone streets of Nocturne Ally at night was not Hermione's ideal plan, she knew there was no choice if they wanted to meet the vampire in question. As they drew near to their destination Hermione noticed Draco's demeanor change as he slipped into a mask of cool collect. His presence wasn't menacing but it was distinctly more confident.

There was a bouncer guarding the front door and he scanned them over very keenly. His gaze fixed on Hermione but she didn't waiver from meeting his eyes. With a curt wordless nod to the door he let them in.

To say that all eyes in the small club were on them would have been dramatic, but in Draco's mind, _accurate._ He clenched his jaw subtly in apprehension and looked for all possible exit points. In a room full of vampires and other magical entities Draco's skills as a legimens were nearly useless.

"Come on," Hermione said as she tried to keep her tone neutral. She tugged his sleeve and they moved towards the bar. Despite Hermione's convictions that vampires were civilized, Draco noted her brown eyes scanning the room cautiously as she sipped her butterbeer. 

"What now?" He gingerly drank from his glass of dragon barrel brandy. His assertion that they were the focus of the other club-goers' scrutiny was confirmed by the whispers and gestures towards them he caught through the hazy smoke of the space.

"Sanguini said that this was Trocar's nightly hangout," she said but had to lean in uncomfortably close to Draco so that he could hear her above the clamor of the club. "Let's look around a bit and if we can't find him we can come back some other time."

"Excuse me, little miss," said a voice suddenly from behind them. The pair turned quickly to find themselves in front of a massive hulking man. He towered over even Draco. Despite his menacing size, his tone was non-confrontational. "Are you Hermione Granger?"

"Yes," she answered, tilting her chin upward to meet the man's gaze squarely.

"That vampire over there would like a word with you," the stranger said and pointed to a booth in the corner. She could make out the dim silouhette of a male figure seated at the booth.

Draco's fight-or-flight instincts told him to grab the witch's hand and Apparate to somewhere safer before she could protest but the moment of opportunity quickly evaporated as she looked at him and then walked forward to meet the person who knew her name.

As luck would have it, she recognized the vampire from Sanguini's description. Trocar looked to be eighteen-years-old but knew he was probably closer to two-hundred. His face was that of a man trapped between adolescence and adulthood with a boyish round chin and messy brown hair. His eyes were a deep crimson, a trait that was as recognizably vampiric as the sharp fangs highlighted in his smile.

"Good evening, witch. Please have a seat, won't you? And your friend here too."

"I don't believe we have met," Hermione said cordially.

"Trocar," he replied. "And I know all about you _Hermione Granger._ The clever war heroine and social justice championess of our people. You are _quite_ a celebrity among our kind." 


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** I wanted to say thank you once more for the encouragement and critiques thus far. I am uploading Chapter 9 a day early with the hopes of finishing Chapter 10 early next week (no promises though!) I anticipate finishing up part one of Between the Shadow and the Soul soon so that I can start on part two. But we will see! _Originally_ I planned for only 10 chapters but that is certainly not going to be the case. ;) ****

* * *

"I'm flattered," Hermione replied with a slight shade of pink creeping across her cheeks. The vampire seemed amused by this response, flashing a debonair grin. Draco felt increasingly invisible, and slightly off-put by the interaction, cleared his throat.

"And _you_ are?" The vampire drawled.

"Draco Malfoy," the wizard replied, letting the name register. He could feel the gaze of several other vampires suddenly flicker to him; unlike Hermione, he didn't get the sense that his name invoked the same celebrity. If anyone in this club knew the name Malfoy, they likely knew of his family's dark history.

"And are you two lovers?" The vampire asked inquisitively.

"No," they both said in quick unison, casting each other looks of embarrassment. Trocar seemed unaffected by the exchange.

"Ah I see then perhaps you might like to join me for some fun?" Trocar asked Hermione unabashedly. "Your friend could come along too if he'd like."

If there was one thing vampires excelled at it was forwardness. In all her time working with them, Hermione had noticed that many of them, particularly the older ones, had dropped a lot of the social pleasantries most humans expect. Asking for sex after exchanging introductions? Perfectly normal to someone who has lived a century or two. Or three.

For a twenty-something witch, however, the solicitation was still awkward. Perhaps moreso, evidently, for Draco who wasn't aware of the hedonistic manners of most vampires. Before he could react, Hermione cut in, "Thank you but I will have to pass on that. If it's alright we do have some questions for you?"

"Perhaps," he answered without commitment, taking a sip from a goblet. A splash of blood spilled on the napkin under it, betraying the contents of the cup. "That would depend on the nature of the questions."

"Compton Enterprises," Hermione said. "We were told you might know something about illegal projects they are doing."

"Ah, now that _is_ a very tricky question," Trocar said and all mirth in his expression evaporated. "One that if I answer fully could get me into trouble with some very unpleasant individuals. I will say this they are not the type of folks to trifle with."

"So we've heard," Draco replied.  
"Then I would heed the advice of others and not look any further into it," the vampire retorted.

Hermione could see there was a falter in Trocar's bravado. At the mention of the company, she watched as he instinctively looked around the room with a cautious glance. What, she wondered, did he fear?

"Trocar, we need your help. People are being murdered and we have reason to believe that this company might be involved. If they are doing something against the law, if they are hurting vampires, they need to be stopped," Hermione pleaded.

"Ah sweet c _hampioness_ of our kind, it's no wonder the rumors of your achievements follow you with conviction like that." Trocar remarked. "Very well, proceed at your own discretion my dear for what I am about to tell you could certainly put a target on your back. That company has some very deep roots, not just here but all over. They are _innovators_ for certain, but what the public doesn't know is that most of their funding goes into their dark arts projects. Secret experiments, horrible hideous things they do in the name of research. I know because I have seen it. Seen the creatures they make. I've watched brothers and sisters die by their hands."

There was a long silence as both Hermione and Draco tried to absorb this information. After a moment, Hermione asked softly, "Were you… taken by them?"

Trocar lifted his sleeve and revealed patterns of red scar tissue that trailed up his arm. The faint ink of the company's logo was etched into his skin, "Labeled like just another piece of their property. I escaped their site in Romania several decades ago but it would seem they have followed me here."

"What they are doing right now, these _attacks,_ are just a means of destabilizing the already strenuous relationship between wizards and our kind," he went on to say. "I have seen them do it before. Only back then in Romania I was naive, believing that if we cooperated with the government we would be fine. Make no mistake, those of us who have seen this before will not go quietly again."

"We need to bring them to justice, Trocar," Hermione said but before she could say anything else they were interrupted by a loud crash as glasses shattered. Two vampires closer to the bar were pushing each other violently and almost reflexively the room's occupants moved away. The few mortal guests were already making their exit.

Draco was eager to do the same. Being in the same space of two drunk and violent vampires was not a smart idea. Particularly when others were likely to join in shortly. Trocar must have agreed with Draco's assessment because he glanced to the commotion with boredom before looking back at the pair: "I think this about all the time we have for this evening, I would be moving along if I were you two, things tend to go down hill quickly when bottles start flying."

Hermione furrowed her brow, not yet ready to depart from their conversation. Sensing as much, Trocar added: "I don't have any more information for you, except that if you want to see what they are doing for yourself I recommend looking into that _rehabilitation_ center. And I do wish you two the best of luck."

CRASH.

Suddenly there were the splinters of a now demolished table ricocheting off the wall nearby.

"Thank you Trocar," Hermione said as Draco gave a curt nod and grabbed her hand and lurched her out of the way as another bottle flew across the room. There was snarling as the two figures threw themselves at one another. Draco didn't stop moving until they were out of the club, speeding away from Nocturne Alley without a backward glance except to make sure they were not being followed.

Once back to the familiar cobblestone paths and warm lantern glow of Diagon Alley, Hermione murmured something quietly.

"Hmm?" Draco said with a bit impatience, despite the façade of bravery he was feeling on edge from their evening's endeavors. "What was that?"

"You are still holding my hand," she pointed out. Immediately he tore his hand away in embarrassment. It seemed silly that as a grown man, fully beyond his grade school youth, Draco would be feeling a distinct shade of pink climbing across his cheeks at the awkwardness of the gesture.

"Yes, well—what now Granger? I feel like we took one step forward and two steps back with that one," he said flatly as they walked.

"I believe Trocar was telling the truth, don't you?" Hermione asked.

"Perhaps," he answered and when she eyed him with a raised brow he sighed and elaborated further "most likely, yes. But neither of us know what his intentions might be."

"You saw the marks on his arm, the initials. I am not a particularly gullible witch but I think that is fair enough proof that he was telling the truth."

"If all this is really happening," Draco said, "we should probably let the Aurors sort it out. Oh don't give me that look, you know as well as I do that this whole mess is a lot bigger than we could have imagined. "

Hermione knew he was right, knew that Draco was trying to be sensible even if she suspected it was because he wanted to save himself from getting into any deeper situations. She couldn't even blame his self-preservation on being a Slytherin: a wizard and witch going after a sinister company alone _was_ irrational. But then again, it was three teenagers that saved the world from the Dark Lord a decade ago. Sometimes it took the bravery of few to accomplish the greater good.

Hermione thought of Harry and Neville, as Aurors she wondered what they would think of what she had uncovered. Would they believe her? As friends, she knew they loved her but deep down knew that they didn't always share her sentiments on matters of magical entities, particularly vampires. Would this information be ruled off as just another part of what Ron once called her "tireless crusade to save the downtrodden".

The two agreed to Apparate back to her bungalow and with a snap, they were gone only to reappear in front of the home a moment later.

"I am not sure they would believe me," she said eventually to continue the conversation, feeling slightly defeated. "Maybe if we could convince Trocar to testify as a witness…Why is my front door open?"

There was a moment of confusion before Hermione bolted forward with a sense of panic rising in her chest. Draco called to her to wait but Hermione didn't listen. The wizard followed behind her swiftly, drawing his wand. _Why does danger always seem court this witch?_ He thought to himself grimly.

The lights were on when they entered the home. Everything looked like it should.

Except one detail.

"Sanguini!" Hermione screamed out, running through the living room. Draco looked to the floor and saw a trail of blood leading from the kitchen. His eyes darted to the corridors of the house, fearful that they might be in danger. But there was no time to look though each room as he followed after Hermione into the kitchen.

Hermione was crying and it didn't take Draco more than a moment to see why. Two bottles of synthetic blood on the kitchen table, the fridge door still open and there on the floor were the remains of the vampire Sanguini.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:  
** Well, here's a little surprise…this week's chapter up a few days early!

Last chapter was really painful for me to write because even as I knew what was going to happen, losing Sanguini wasn't easy. I am still feeling bad about it. If any group of people could understand the emotional pangs of a favorite fictional character dying I know it would be all you fine readers. There is so much more development with Sanguini and his friendship with Hermione that I didn't get to include so maybe I can post some one-shots in the future.

I also wanted to say how appreciative I am that you lovely readers are picking up on the nuances of Hermione and Draco's interactions.

* * *

 **Chapter 10  
**

 _It was raining and the drops of water on the courthouse windows were a soothing distraction from the click of the clock and the long, painful silence as the witch and vampire waited._

 _You are far too invested, Sanguini had chided her gently. His pale skin was clammy and cast in a sickly grey color, a side effect of being awake during the daytime. It was 4PM, the latest time the ministry court was willing to see his case. It made Hermione furious that they did not accommodate vampires, knowing that many of them became physically ill if they tried to be active during the daytime. It was prejudicial laws and systems such as this that kept vampires from pursuing legal claims._ _But with Hermione's support, Sanguini was persistent in the fight for his right to personhood._

 _The young lawyer took every case seriously but she knew he was right. She was invested. Perhaps it was because he reminded her of Remus Lupin, a beloved friend and mentor who had also been a werewolf. Remus had not lived to see Hermione become a civil rights lawyer, nor prosper from her efforts to give those like him the dignity they deserved._

 _She didn't know if it was Sanguini's gentle eyes or the slow cambering smile that reminded her of her former professor—whatever it was, Hermione was fueled to help him._

 _They waited another hour before they were called into the courtroom. A stately man perched on his chair looked down at them. He gave Hermione the benefit of stating their case before denying the request. They needed more proof of identity was the excuse he cited. Proof that the vampire was who he said he was, or rather, who he had once been._

 _He had said proof of identity but really what the judge had meant was evidence of humanity. The trouble with seeking personhood was that the ruling was always subjective._

 _How do you prove you are worthy to be considered a person was the heart of the case. Hours of waiting only to be dismissed in a moment: Hermione was heartbroken, Sanguini was resigned._

" _You did your best," he said. A drip of blood fell from his nose, another symptom of his body reacting to the daylight. He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed up the mess. "We knew there was likelihood this could happen."_

"It's not over," she promised. "I won't stop fighting."

 _Sanguini nodded with a sad smile, "I know."_

Hermione howled in anguish over the chard and mutilated form of her friend. Her sadness struck Draco to his core and he struggled with what to do. He still clutched his wand defensively as he looked around the empty space.

Kneeling down, he grabbed her wand that Hermione had tossed to the ground in shock and agony. "Granger," he said and corrected himself with a softer tone, "Hermione? I need you to stay put while I check the rest of the home. Keep your guard up and I will be right back."

She nodded silently and took her wand back, pushing away the tears with the sleeve of her blouse. Draco saw her struggle to stifle the pain but did as she was asked, calming down enough so she could remain alert. Her brown eyes were still brimming with tears as she regarded all that was left of her friend.

Draco moved through the kitchen and back into the living room. Nothing was out of place in the home as he moved from room to room. He got to Hermione's office last which was where he saw books tossed on the floor and a locked filing cabinet that had been crushed. Laying on one side, the metal furniture appeared to be missing half of the front upper drawer. His mind immediately flickered back to the night Frankford had been murdered and the uncanny resemblance of the scene. Only now, he wondered, if whoever had done this had gotten what they wanted. Whatever it was that had been in the filing cabinet.

He didn't hear Hermione crying anymore and the lack of sound troubled him. Uneasy, Draco quickly made his way back to where she now sat in the living room. Hermione had summoned her Patronus, a silvery sleek otter that swirled in the air in front of her with ethereal grace; Draco was so entranced by the sight, having never been able to conjure one himself, that he didn't initially realize what she was doing.

It wasn't until it bounded off in a trail of shimmering stardust, Hermione and Draco both watching it disappear, that the witch finally spoke with a vacant tone. It seemed her initial panic had been replaced with a resolute mask of calm. "The Aurors should be here before long."

Draco hesitated, pausing only for a moment before sitting down beside her and then slowly as if expecting her to swat him away he wrapped one arm around her shoulder. Hermione was comforted by the gesture, leaning her head against his arm if nothing but out of pure exhaustion and shock. She sensed his hesitation but appreciated his silent presence. He didn't try to fumble through sympathies or coax her out of her thoughts; he simply shared the space with her as they waited for the Aurors to arrive.

"I am so sorry, Hermione" Harry said empathetically. They were standing on the porch of her home while the investigating Aurors removed Sanguini's body and scanned the home for evidence. It was an eerily similar scene to Frankford's murder only this time Draco didn't leave when they finished questioning him. Instead he dutifully remained at Hermione's side even if he had little to say to Harry. "Do you know who might have done this?"

Hermione had a hunch. And so did Draco which was why he was surprised when Hermione offered up nothing but a shake of the head. She was trying to fight back the tears, "No, not really. Maybe. Sanguini was staying with me because he had been attacked at his home but I don't think whoever it was intended to target him. They broke into the filing cabinet in my office."

"What was in there?"

"A few client files and some court documents. The cabinet was goblin-forged; it was supposed to be impossible to open so I am not sure how anyone could have broken into it. But honestly I haven't been able to see what exactly was taken."

Harry nodded, he looked at Hermione but his gaze flickered to Draco. "And what was he doing here?"

"Iwas assisting Granger with some work," Draco replied coolly to the question directed at Hermione. Both wizards now turned their gaze expectantly to Hermione in the hopes she would elaborate further.

She hesitated, not knowing where to begin to explain her suspicions to Harry. She knew there was chance he would dismiss her but given the circumstance of Sanguini's death, she realized that perhaps she did have a target on her back. So she explained what Draco and her had begun to uncover, watching Harry carefully as she spoke for signs that he understood the gravity of the situation.

"This is pretty serious," Harry said with a frown. "Like massive corporate conspiracy theory serious."

"Two dead, Potter; this isn't much of a conspiracy theory as it is a fact," Draco replied curtly. Harry had almost been able to ignore the former Slytherin's presence while he had remained silent

"And what are the chances you might be involved in this, Malfoy?" Harry shot back with a suspicious tone. To describe their history as anything but venomous would be an understatement.

"I told you, Draco has been helping me get to the bottom of this," Hermione interjected and both men looked at her. She didn't baulk under their scrutiny but saw the visible surprise in Harry's expression.

"He's Draco now?" Harry asked.

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. She knew she owed her best friend an explanation and yet the evening's events had left her both incredibly weary and troubled. This wasn't the time nor the place to have the discussion. All she wanted to do was sleep.

 _Sleep._ That reminded Hermione that her home was now a crime scene.

"Harry, can we please talk about this later? Right now I need to find my cat. And after that I need to figure out where we are going to stay because it certainly won't be here tonight," she said tiredly. And before Harry could make the offer, she cut him off, "nor Godric's Hollow. I won't be putting you or Ginny in danger. " _Or your unborn child,_ leaving the last part out because they were in front of Draco and it wasn't her news to share.

"Hermione…"

"Harry, I have made up my mind on the matter."

"Then _where_?"

"You can stay at my place," Draco said quietly. There was long pause where both Harry and Hermione stared at him, as if expecting the wizard to retract his offer. Unsure of the awkward looks, he added under his breath. "And I guess the bloody cat can come too."

"Are you sure about this? I mean—"

"I have been stirring the cauldron as much as you with looking into this," Draco explained, "at least for tonight. You can stay until you can figure out something more suitable."

Hermione nodded.

It took another fifteen minutes of Hermione reassuring Harry that this would be the best solution, even after he pulled her aside and made sure she wasn't being coerced. She expected in the morning she would be hearing from Ginny (if not the entirety of the Weasley family tree as well) but the energy it took to convince Harry was about all she had left in her emotional reserves.

"Is thing your's?" Draco called out from the front lawn just as Crookshanks weaved himself in between the wizard's feet. The cat purred in response. Draco gingerly picked up the massive cat as Hermione and Harry rejoined him. Hermione retrieved her familiar from the wizard and gave Harry a hug.

Hermione said her goodbye while Draco simply gave a stoic nod. Harry did nothing to mask his continued concern for his friend as she took Draco's outstretched hand. There was a loud crack and suddenly Hermione, Crookshanks and Draco were gone, Disapparating into the darkness of the waning night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** When I imagined Draco's apartment, all I could think of the inside of Karl Lagerfield's home so that is loosely what inspired the description in this chapter (google and be amazed with his incredible library collection!) There are a few details to this chapter that were very important to me to include but I won't get into talking about them until you have had a chance to read it. All I will say is that we start to see a little bit more of how Draco has grown since his Hogwarts years.

* * *

When Hermione reappeared holding Crookshanks and standing by Draco's side she was relieved by the reassuring sight of London's downtown buildings all around them. She had forgotten to verify that they would not be going to Malfoy Manor prior to Apparating, a place that she was all too familiar with and not the least bit eager to see again. What Hermione did not know was that Draco shared the sentiment.

"This way," he said and nodded towards the massive building in front of them. A doorman was waiting, opening the large glass doors as they approached. He greeted them with a polite "good evening Mr. Malfoy" but Hermione sensed his curiosity about her. Given that Draco didn't pause to talk, neither did she.

Taking the elevator up, she watched as the numbers lit up until there wasn't any digits left and the ding of the doors opening revealed a narrow hallway with only a single door at the end. When they arrived, Hermione was amazed by the sprawling interior of the penthouse. It was unlike any apartment she had ever seen with wall- to-wall windows that surveyed the entire cityscape. Stark white minimalism and modern furniture, the only space not made up of windows was the towering library of bookshelves in one corner of the apartment.

Hermione was entranced with the sight and momentarily forgot that she was still standing in the front doorway. Crookshanks scrambled out of her arms, disappearing to investigate the home.

"Make yourself at home," Draco said as he peered at her curiously, faintly amused as she gravitated towards the open library. He could have predicted that she would have been more intrigued with the towering shelves then the expensive art that decorated the home.

"I didn't realize you liked to read so much," she said aloud in wonder, forgetting for only a brief moment the evening's circumstances that had lead her to his doorstep. She caught herself before asking if he did in fact read them, knowing it was a rude question.

He scoffed as he walked over to the nearby brass bar cart, pouring himself a tumbler of firewhiskey; he gestured to a second glass but Hermione shook her head at the offer.

Draco caught the suggestion in her words. "I'll have you know I was quite the studious young wizard in my younger years. Best in my classes, thank you very much."

"Best?" She said wryly.

He rolled his eyes and took a sip, "Fine, _second_ best. As I recall there was only witch who ever beat me in academics. Cleverest witch of her time, they say."

She smiled at the compliment, brown eyes meeting icy blue ones. She found herself uncharacteristically shy under his gaze and quickly turned back to the book shelves to hide a creeping blush. Her fingers running over the binding as she scanned the titles: Potion books, field guides for foraging ingredients, several dozen pieces of literature on the art of legillmency. What surprised her most was his collection of poetry, Muggle authors intermixed with names she recognized as wizards and witches. Hermione plucked one book from it's place, opening a copy of  
 _Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair._

"You know, you were the one that made me realize what I had been taught about Muggles was wrong," Draco said softly.

"Excuse me?" Hermione replied, dumbfounded by his statement.

"I never would have admitted it back then. I had been told all my life that it was my pureblood heritage made my magical skills superior," Draco said slowly, casting his eyes at the amber liquid as if scrying for the proper words in the bottom of the glass. "But along came this curly-haired muggleborn witch who turned my narrow little world upside down. She was brilliant, better than me at just about every subject. She had a pretty mean right swing too." A flash of a smile tugged at his lips, Hermione was still trying to make sense of his words. "I know it doesn't change much given what all happened, but it was something I thought you should know. It made me question a lot of _other_ things I had been told."

"I…I don't know what to say," Hermione replied.

Sensing he had put her in an uncomfortable discussion, Draco was quick to change the subject. "Yes, well I am sure you are quite tired after this whole ordeal. A conversation for another time."

"Aren't _you?_ Tired, I mean. _"_ Hermione replied as saw him take another sip of firewhiskey. Draco was not about to admit that his reoccurring insomnia made sleep a rare and fleeting commodity. "

"I will be going to bed shortly myself," he lied. Nodding to a door down the hallway, he added. "There is a bathroom the first door on the left, guest bedroom is the second door."

Hermione nodded, saying her thank you's and good night before she retreated to the guest bedroom. She didn't even turn on the light as she stripped to her undershirt and slipped under the covers. The horrors of the evening were abated by the tendrils of sleep that crept into her mind, drowning her thoughts in a dreamless oblivion. Even so, her hand still clutched her wand even as she fell asleep almost the instant her head touched the pillow.

It was nearly 11AM when Hermione woke up perhaps the latest she had ever slept in years. The trickle of late morning sunlight filtered across the wooden floor and revealed the room's interior that she hadn't seen the night before. She saw a guest robe hanging in the closet and put it on before she peered outside the door to see if Draco was awake. To her surprise, she saw him sitting at the island counter with Crookshanks cozying up to the wizard. Draco was scratching behind that cat's ear absently as he read the morning newspaper. Whenever the wizard would pause in his affection, the large feline would seemingly scowl and nudge Draco's hand forcefully until he resumed.

"Fine, fine. You really are a persistent little bloke," Draco muttered even though he didn't hide a faint smile.

Hermione couldn't believe her feline familiar was so affectionate with the former Slytherin, as far as Crookshanks was concerned there were very few people worthy of his approval. Given the events of their third year at Hogwarts and Crookshanks keen sense of judgment in those days, she trusted the animal's opinion far more then she did of most.

"Good morning you two," Hermione said and both Draco and Crookshanks looked up. The cat leaped off the counter and darted under feet with a loud purr.

"Did you sleep well?" Draco asked as he got up and offered his seat to her. Hermione accepted, sitting down on the stool and glancing at the newspaper in front of her. The headlines were scarred with more attacks and Hermione realized she didn't have the stomach to read the details so shortly after waking up. She folded the paper up and pushed it aside.

"Well enough," she said as Draco wordlessly put a cup of tea in front of her and a plate of pancakes. For someone who had spent the better part of her young adulthood in the world of magic, Hermione's expression of surprise would have suggested the idea of Draco in the kitchen was an unfathomable act of wizardry itself.

"Curb the shock, Granger," he said dryly. "But don't be too impressed either, pancakes are just about the only thing I can make."

She laughed and took a bite and despite Draco's words, Hermione _was_ nonetheless impressed. It wasn't until a few more bites did Hermione realize how hungry she had been. As the witch ate, a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Do you not have a house elf?"

"No," he answered, slightly surprised. "You didn't notice something different about this building when you came in last night?"

She shook her head.

"This entire building is owned and run by Muggles. They have services to cover just about anything I might need like taking care of the occasional errand. Which reminds me, I had someone bring by a few outfits for you since I know you weren't able to pack anything last night."

Hermione saw a neat stack of apparel boxes stacked on the nearby couch. The witch was moved by the thoughtful gesture. "Thank you, Draco. You really didn't have to go to the trouble."

"It wasn't any trouble, just a quick call really."

"So why this building? I mean, I would think you would have preferred something closer to Diagon Alley."

"Muggles have better real estate," he said with a shrug. "I don't exactly run with the pureblood high society crowd these days so it doesn't much matter to me if it isn't considered within the acceptable zip code."

Hermione nodded in understanding. It was becoming easier to see this version of Draco Malfoy, the self-assured and redeemed man, then the person she once knew him to be. Physically, Hermione realized he almost looked like a different wizard. The years had chiseled his features, carving high cheekbones and a strong jawline in his pale complexion. Even his blonde hair had become noticeably lighter, falling just above his shoulders. His silver blue eyes were softer with a glimpse of melancholy that Hermione never had noticed in their school days.

But even the smell of nutmeg and maple syrup coupled with the playful banter wasn't enough to push away the memories of the evening's horrors. The memory of her fallen friend Sanguini came rushing back to her. Draco noticed the shift and saw the sadness cast a shadow across the witch's demeanor. "Hey," he said softly, leaning across the island counter just enough that his gaze was level with her own, "we will find whoever killed him."

Hermione appreciated that there was a sense of action in his words, not merely comfort. Whether there was conviction behind that promise or that it was merely a gesture of placation remained to be seen but Hermione felt it was the former. Just then there was a knock at the door.

Draco glanced at the clock and nodded to himself as he said aloud, "Figures they would drop in early."

"Who?"

"Your entourage," he replied and went to the front door. Hermione looked curiously down the hallway to see him open the door and reveal the familiar sight of Harry and Ginny.

"HERMIONE! THANK MERLIN YOU ARE OKAY!" Ginny said as she pushed past Draco to see her friend. There were tears in the redheaded witch's eyes as she gave Hermione a hug. She wondered to herself whether it was pregnancy hormones that Ginny so distraught or perhaps she had genuinely feared Draco might have been feeding Hermione to a dragon by now.

Still dressed in a robe and caught off guard by the arrival of her two friends, Hermione didn't know what to say other then 'good morning' and 'I'm fine, really' as she returned the hug. Harry, she could see, was standing beside Draco looking awkward in the unfamiliar environment.

"They owled a little bit ago," Draco explained, with a hint of annoyance. "I _thought_ I had said I would let them know when you were awake before they came over."

"You _should_ have just come to our place, Hermione," Ginny said with furrowed brow. Hermione didn't have the courage to tell her friend that she looked a great deal like the older Weasley matriarch in that instance. "You didn't have to come _here._ "

Ginny didn't mask her contempt for Draco and Hermione instinctively wanted to put herself between the two as a safeguard for the Slytherin alumna. Just in case her pregnant friend decided Draco needed to get acquainted with a bat boogey hex simply for existing in her presence.

"Ginny, I came here because Draco was kind enough to offer his home," Hermione said. "Whatever is going on right now could be dangerous for those around me. I didn't want to put you or Harry in danger; you have bigger priorities now then getting involved in whatever is going on."

"We want to help though, Hermione," Harry said with quiet earnestness.

Hermione didn't want to involve her dear friend but knew that without help Draco and her weren't going to be able to bring Compton Enterprises down nor seek justice for Sanguini. As the death toll began to rise, Hermione realized that this situation was far graver then she could have imagined. If Trocar's words had been true then a civil war was brewing.

"Okay," Hermione breathed, "this is what we need to do…"


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** After a small hiatus with this fic, I am back with chapter 12. In the initial brainstorming of this fic I had only anticipated 10 chapters, go figure! But since then things have greatly expanded and I predict this will end up being a two part series. 

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Still unable to return to her home since it was considered an active crime scene, Hermione continued to remain a guest at Draco's apartment. As part of their ongoing plan, he continued about his day-to-day business with Compton Enterprises as their representative with the foundation. Likewise, Harry went back to Department of Magical Law Enforcement in search of what he could uncover from his sources. Ginny, they all agreed (once Draco had been informed of her pregnancy), would offer moral support but keep out of any actual involvement.

As for Hermione? She was on a leave of absence from work, an action no one in the office faulted her for given the circumstances. But what they did not know was that she was pooling her time and energy in uncovering who murdered both her boss and her friend.

In order to do so, she knew what she needed to do. Hermione waited until Draco had left for the afternoon before retrieving an empty Pensieve she had bought earlier. Peering into the swirling mass she placed the tip of her wand to the side of her forehead and watched a trail of white smoky ether trail behind the path of her wand as she dipped it into the Pensieve.

Hermione closed her eyes, exhaling hard as she was suddenly whisked into the memories of the previous evening.

She quickly lost confidence in her idea as the scene played out before her; it felt like some sort of Shakespearean tragedy mixed with the sensation of a lucid dream. She knew what was going to happen but it didn't make it hurt any less.

 _Focus,_ Hermione commanded silently as she followed behind the memory of herself and Draco moving towards the kitchen. She forced herself to avoid looking at Sanguini and instead observed the details of the scene she had seen but paid no attention to the other evening.

Two bottles of blood were on the table and suddenly Hermione realized who ever had killed Sanguini had been someone he knew. He had invited the person in, hence why there was no struggle at the door. But even more glaring of a detail: he had offered the person a drink. Had they sat at the table together and chatted? Hermione began to wonder: Did the person wait until her friend was reaching for something in the fridge before killing him when his back was turned?

She was ripped from her thoughts by the sound of her own anguished cries as the memory played out. Hermione couldn't help but look and shuddered to see the sight all over again. Like being jerked out of a dream, she pulled away from the Pensieve abruptly. Despite her conviction that she was capable of revisiting the memory, Hermione could not hold back the tears. The witch was not sure how much time had passed as she wept until the sound of Draco coming home alerted her.

"Hey Granger," He greeted but his expression fell when he saw the Pensieve. Hermione put on a stony mask of resolve, determined for Draco not to see her tears but the swollen state of her eyes said it all.

"I had to see the other night again," she said in explanation. Draco moved to where she sat and kneeled down. He wasn't accustomed to seeing a vulnerable side of Hermione Granger, the witch he knew to be fierce and above all capable in every situation. But seeing her struggle nudged something inside Draco. Without thinking he pulled her close in a hug. **  
**  
"You didn't have to revisit it alone, you know." He said quietly as he pulled away, "You don't ever have to do any of this alone."

"Why are you doing this, Draco?" Hermione asked, looking at him searchingly. "Please don't take it the wrong way, I am so grateful for all you have done. But why? Why are you putting yourself at risk for me?"

"Do I really have to say?" He asked.

They were back at the same place as before, dancing around the issue. He had devised the idea that his involvement was simply an act of redemption, that helping Hermione meant proving he could shed some of the darkness wrought by his former transgressions. And yet Draco knew the truth. That the guilt and reality of his past would never truly leave him. His draw to Hermione Granger was therefore something else entirely.

There was a brief moment in which Draco's face was inches from her own. Hermione was at once lost in his icy blue eyes. She saw his concern but more then anything, she saw a refuge. She saw comfort. And suddenly Hermione closed the gap between them, her lips on his in a tender kiss. Draco didn't pull away but rather moved his hands to her hair, parting her lips with his own.

When Draco and Hermione finally pulled away they were both out of breath but otherwise silent, unsure of what words to say that wouldn't break the dazed spell they were both under. Instead, Hermione murmured something and abruptly retreated to her bedroom leaving Draco to merely stare in her wake, dumbfounded.

The late afternoon had waned into the early evening before Draco knocked on the Hermione's bedroom door.

"There is somewhere I want to take you," he said, making no mention of their previous encounter even though the discussion was going to be inevitable at some point. From a quick glance, Draco noticed that on her nightstand was a small mountain of books from his library she had managed to pilfer. He smiled inwardly.

When she looked at him skeptically, he feigned exasperation. "Of course only if you would like Miss Granger."

She smirked as he extended his hand in invitation. Hermione didn't hesitate to take the outstretched hand and with the soft pop of Apparition they disappeared. When they reappeared, Hermione nearly lost her balance. Draco steadied her but she waved off his protective gesture.

"I am fine, thank you very much," she said.

"Clearly," he retorted.

They both laughed, Hermione glancing around their new surroundings inquisitively. "Where are we?"

"I thought you could use some fresh change of scenery," he said walking towards the cliff's edge. "I used to come here a lot when I was younger. There was something about the salt air that calmed my nerves. Even after all this time it still does."

The grassy cliff side overlooked tall jutting rock formations and massive waves. Even in the darkness of night one could still see the swirl of the sea foam as the tides raced hypnotically back and forth.

"It's breath-taking," Hermione said in admiration. Draco merely smiled, his gaze focused on the witch's delight more so than the ocean scene below them. "I can't even remember the last time I saw the ocean."

Which was the truth. Hermione had spent the better part of the last several years inside ministry courtrooms and behind the four walls of her office. When was the last time she had been outside the city at all? She wondered to herself.

Once again, Hermione felt at peace in the quiet company of her unlikely partner. Under the moonlight, Hermione couldn't help but admire Draco's sharp features and the silver glow of his blond hair. She knew she had to say something about the kiss they had shared earlier but Hermione also felt that saying the words aloud might break the spell of the moment. She didn't know what they had, but she did know whatever it was she didn't want to jeopardize either.

"Draco, I…about what happened earlier…" Hermione's words faltered.

And whether by grace of his legillimency or merely intuition, Draco interrupted her gently: "A conversation for another time?"

Hermione nodded and without another word she took his hand. He was surprised by the gesture but said nothing as they stood side by side, hand in hand as the waves below them crashed violently.


End file.
